“Let’s dress. I’m afraid we need to be on our way.”
She nodded. Pulling back the blankets, he slid from beneath and picked up his shirt.
A gasp came from her lips as she looked at his cock, then her wide eyes rose to meet his. Ah, hell, he’d frightened her anyway. She had lost the sleepy seductive look and now appeared as if someone had tossed cold water in her face.
“I will try no’ to hurt ye. I promise to go slow.”
She took a breath. “Ye are quite large.”
A small moment of triumph rushed through him as he thought at least he had something Henry apparently had not.
He dressed but studied her as she made her way to the bag she’d brought and pulled out a blue gown. It was the color of her eyes. By the time she pulled it on and walked back to him, he was already dressed.
“Do ye mind?” She turned and gave him access to her back and the ribbons that would bind the material to her body.
“Nae.” He took his time, ensuring he did it right, but at the same time fantasizing that instead, he was unlacing the gown and pulling it from her shoulders. Och, he started to ache again.
Finishing, he shook his head, and they gathered their belongings and headed down to meet the others.
…
“Well?” Finlay faced Tristan after his wife rose to look out the window, again not touching her breakfast. She needed to keep her strength up for the journey and the babe—he’d see to it they brought something along with them today.
“They saw no one who shouldnae have been around yer horse.”
“Someone put it there. Someone who kenned it would be ye riding that horse,” Malcolm said. “Probably someone who kens of yer connection to the king and doesnae want ye telling him the English Puritans have recruited Scots to come fight their battles for them.”
“Are ye sure it was meant for Finlay? Our horses are similar.” Robbie looked worried, yet defiant, as if he expected an attack at any moment.
“Nae, but I keep having this feeling we’re being followed.”
Brodie straightened. “I’ve felt it, too. We’ll have to be more vigilant.”
Looking to the other men who took shifts watching the animals last night, Finlay asked, “Did anything seem amiss last night?”
Brodie shook his head.
Seamus said, “’Twas quiet after the villagers’ celebration last night.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw his wife’s blue dress swish as she flinched then hid behind the curtain. His first reaction was to jump up to see what she’d been watching, his next was to take in what appeared to be fear etched on her face.
Was she hiding from someone?
The next thought was almost too horrid to contemplate. He’d left Blair alone with the horses. Had his new wife had anything to do with hiding the stone on Hedwynn? Was she truly siding with her brother and the Royalists, or was she trying to gain an advantage for her father? Had she married him so she could stop him from delivering the message to the king?
What did he truly know about her? And why had her father agreed to their union so quickly? Could the Macnab laird have known about his mission and pushed his daughter into sabotaging it? It seemed absurd, but the Macnab laird wasn’t known for being stable.
Hedwynn had snorted with displeasure when Blair stood near him. Maybe there was more to the steed not liking his wife than jealousy. And one of the Cameron men in Edinburgh had said, Ye never ken with the Macnabs, they bend with the favorable winds. Could Blair be more like her father than he imagined?
The culprit wasn’t one of the Cameron men with him on this journey. He knew them all well, had spent years with all except Robbie, and knew their loyalties lay with the Camerons and king. Blair’s father played both sides. Would his daughter do the same?
She took a deep breath then rubbed her hands down her skirt and strolled back over to them. But not before her gaze shot to the door then back to them.
“Be vigilant and dinnae say anything to my wife,” he whispered before she slid back into her chair. She leaned closer to him as if seeking the comfort of the moment they had shared this morning. He wanted that intimacy again, but maybe he should keep her at arm’s length lest she stab him in his sleep. He didn’t wish to think the worst of his beautiful new bride. But, she was the only one who had had access to the horses.
…
Rain poured down in thick, unrelenting pellets, assaulting and stinging Blair’s skin, but their band kept moving forward, and she didn’t complain—she was determined to prove she wasn’t a burden.
The men trudged on through the storm, intent on reaching the next inn and not losing any more time. She was growing weary, but she welcomed the exhaustion, because her mind had been churning all day, wondering if she’d imagined who she’d seen this morning.
She’d been on edge since. It could not have been Bruce Graham’s contorted, angry face she’d seen. If he was following her to England, what was he going to do? She was wed now, and there was nothing he could do to change it.
Oh dear God, had she made a mistake?
Would the union she’d formed with the Camerons anger the Grahams and pit two of the most powerful Royalist clans against each other? Did Bruce hold that kind of sway with his kin, or was that what he had been hoping for with a marriage to her?
Should she tell her husband?
How would he react to the news she’d married him because she’d been blackmailed? Or would he suspect her capable of pitting the Cameron clan against the Grahams? If Bruce told him that, would he believe the man over her?
Och, her father’s reputation had tainted them all.
Finlay was a calm man, but that revelation might incite his wrath. And if he set her aside, Bruce would be there to swoop her up, probably at her father’s urging, to avoid scandal.
She couldn’t risk losing this marriage, so she attempted to push the thoughts from her mind, hoping the image of her blackmailer had all been her imagination.
“Ye are shivering.” Finlay spoke after hours of silence.
“’Tis the rain. I’ll be all right.”
But it wasn’t just the weather. It was the fear of everything she might lose and the knowledge that if Bruce tried, he would bring war to the Camerons. Her actions could devastate the Royalists’ resistance to the Covenants. Maybe she should stay at Finlay’s estate in England. Never go back to Scotland and face the consequences of her decision.
But it would break her heart. She loved the rolling hills, mountains, and streams of the Highlands. Seeing the lavender in the valleys and the thistles on the hills. From what she’d heard of England, she’d probably hate it.
“The rain has slowed us down.” Drops trailed down his face, and she studied the hard lines of his jaw.
“I am sorry to be holding everything up.” She could tell they’d lightened the pace, most likely to accommodate her.
“Nae, ’tis no’ yer fault. We just cannae stop long. I brought some oatcakes if ye would like.”
“I’ll be all right. How long until we stop?”
“There is a village ahead. Another couple of hours.”
…
A short while later, they arrived in the village. The rain had continued, leaving Blair and all her belongings soaked.
As they readied the horses for an evening in the stables, Malcolm came out from the inn shaking his head. “’Tis the rain. The inn is full. The only thing they can offer us is the loft above the stables.”
“Is it dry?” That’s all she cared about.
“Aye, but we will all have to stay up there.” Malcom looked to Finlay, whose gaze drifted to her then back to the Cameron man. He nodded.
A short while later, they were climbing up to the loft. She was thankful it was clean, the floors covered with fresh rushes and blankets available. Laying one down on a hefty pile of loose hay, she climbed on then pulled another on top of her to ward off the chill. It didn’t work, because with all the men about, she had to remain in her soaked gow
n.
Finlay had no such inhibitions, taking off all of his clothing and sliding in with her. He put his arms around her and pulled her close to his warm body.
“I’m sorry we couldnae secure a room.” The whispered words soothed her worries because they sounded sincere.
“’Twill be all right.” But she’d never slept on the floor. Her hips and shoulder hurt, and she couldn’t stop shivering. Sleep evaded her as images of Bruce taunted her, and she contemplated how her actions could bring war to the Highlands.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, the air was still thick, and a fine misting rain clung to it as if another storm might roll back in. His wife had finally stopped shivering, and Finlay hated to take her back out in the weather. He’d been tempted to pull her wet gown from her body last night, but with all the men present, he couldn’t risk her being exposed if the blanket fell from her body. The best he’d been able to do was hold her close and attempt to give her his heat.
Pushing up on his elbow, he moved the hair from her face aside. “Good morn, wife.”
To his surprise, her eyes were alert as if she’d been awake for hours. He’d kept her pinned to his side all evening not only for warmth, but because of the small possibility she might sneak away and try to meddle with the horses. He just couldn’t see her doing it, but he’d been wrong about people before.
“Good morning.” She returned and sat up, stretching as some joint popped.
Och, guilt wrenched his gut. She deserved better than sleeping on the hard floor of a stable’s loft. And with a babe in her belly, no less. Maybe it would have been best to leave her on Cameron lands until he returned, but he refused to start his marriage that way. Not with how things had gone between his parents.
“Did ye sleep?”
“Nae, but I will be fine.” She was the daughter of a powerful laird, one who had barely left her home, and he’d forced her to sleep in a sodden gown in a place fit for no one. Her skin was pale, and she looked to be in pain as she stood and moved around the small space, stretching from side to side. He would make it up to her.
The other men stirred. He was growing anxious to consummate their marriage but hoped the rain would stop so they would have better luck with the next inn tonight. He’d been married for three days, and he still did not know the feel of Blair’s naked body next to his. His shaft was tight and uncomfortable, but it was something he would have to live with for now.
She seemed oblivious to his pain and didn’t appear to be feeling the lack of intimacy to the extent he was, so he turned his frustration outward. “Do ye ken when yer father is planning on sending his men to aid the English Parliament?”
She froze. Although he’d kept his tone light, he recognized an edge to it.
“Nae.” She looked away, which he took as a sign she was unwilling to discuss political matters with him. Could it be because she was hiding her intentions or perhaps that she was uncomfortable with her father’s political stance?
“Ye ken if he does that ’twill hasten the Covenanters’ plans to force their ways on my clan.”
He thought he saw her tremble as she shut her eyes, looking guilty, but he still couldn’t believe she would kill him.
“And on mine as well.” Did she not count herself as one of the Camerons now? Would she always be loyal to a clan whose allegiances changed like the tides with the moon, or would she come to be part of his family?
“Ye are a Cameron now.” He stifled his anger…or maybe he hadn’t, because she swayed as if she’d been dealt a blow. They’d only been married a few days, and she needed time to adjust.
Feeling guilty, he came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her slight form into his body.
“I’m sorry.” He took a breath, then whispered in her ear, “I’m just angry ye have to sleep on the floor in a stable after I drag ye all over Scotland in the rain. I should no’ have taken it out on ye.”
She twisted in his arms and laid her head on his chest. She was exhausted, and they had a whole day of riding to go. He hated to push forward, but his loyalty was to clan and king first, then to the wife who might wish him dead.
…
The day dragged on as they trudged through a rain that didn’t want to end. Finlay’s gaze kept drifting to his wife as she peered behind them. It appeared as if she was expecting someone to join their group. Maybe she had an accomplice.
Hell, he hated where his mind was going. She was not treacherous like her father. Blair was a kind soul who was a friend to his laird’s sister. She would never betray Kirstie.
Blair started to tilt, her body growing limp. At any moment she might topple over, so he called a halt to their progress. Dismounting, he hurried to her horse and reached up to help her down. Her mouth did this adorable little thing where it quirked to the side as she attempted a grin.
“Let’s give ye and yer horse a break. Ride with me.” She did smile then as if she appreciated the gesture. Her hand slid into his, and she took his help.
After they were mounted and had started off again, she sank into his chest. Trusting in him, renewing his faith in her.
“Thank ye,” she said as one of her hands rested on his leg, her delicate fingers lying there, gently acknowledging she had confidence in his ability to keep her safe. That small gesture spurred him on as another deluge of cold rain descended upon them.
Despite the horrid travel conditions and the urgency of his mission, he was overcome with a sense of peace as her head lolled back into the spot between his chest and shoulder. Snaking an arm around her waist and holding her near, he vowed not to let their journey dampen his mood, and he certainly wouldn’t take his frustration out on her again.
By the time they had reached their next stop, they discovered the rain had again driven everyone to the inn, and their party would have to take the stable loft. He wanted to yell, but he tamped it down, asking for extra blankets so he could soften the rushes a little more tonight. After this journey, he vowed Blair would never be forced into such conditions again.
The next morning, the rain had stopped, and the sun rose high on a pleasant July day. The inn was still packed with guests, so instead of seeking a meal inside, he thought to save some time since the merchants were already out in their booths down the street.
“We’ll stop at the market for some nourishment before we leave.” He turned to Blair.
What he really wanted was to send the men ahead and return to the warm blankets with his wife. The need to touch her, caress her, and finally quench the thirst that had parched him since his wedding night overwhelmed his senses. He restrained the urge because someone would either come upon them, or he’d move too fast and scare her again.
As they walked through the streets, Blair took in the bounty of what appeared to be a very prosperous market.
“Peaches,” she squealed and ran for a booth with the sweet-smelling fruit. Whirling back to him, she said, “I’ve only had them a few times, because we have to import them from farther south.”
“How many would ye like?” He was delighted to see her appetite returning.
“Should we get some for everyone? ’Twill be nice to have with us.”
“Aye. Anything else ye see?”
She was already inspecting the rest of the fruit when he walked up to the merchant to order two for each in their party. He had peaches quite often in England and would make sure she was well supplied when they arrived. She might even be able to plant some in the orchard. The thought pleased him—if she liked the orchard and gardens, she would be more likely to want to return with him.
After paying, he turned, but Blair had disappeared. He let his gaze drift up and down the street, which had filled with people shopping for their provisions, but no blond lass in a blue dress was visible. Panic setting in, he yelled to Brodie, who was only a booth away, “Do ye see Blair?”
“Nae.”
“I cannae find her.”
Robbie ran up beside him. �
�Which way did she go?”
“I dinnae ken. I turned to pay for the fruit, and when I looked around she was gone.”
A whizz passed by, and a thunk sounded. An arrow landed in the crate between them, only inches away.
“Duck,” he yelled to Robbie, and they managed to cover themselves behind a table just before the second shaft skimmed the top and slid to barely miss a woman, a babe in her arms, inspecting the peaches. She screamed, and chaos erupted in the crowded street.
“Brodie,” he yelled as he pointed in the direction he believed the projectiles were coming from.
“Aye.” Brodie leapt toward the other side of the street, Tristan and Seamus behind them.
No more arrows flew their way. A few moments later, the Cameron men returned, shaking their heads.
“Nothing,” Malcolm called out.
“Who were they aiming for?” Seamus asked.
“It could have been either one of us.” Robbie shrugged.
“Aye, I cannae say for certain.” He saw the fruit he’d dropped and demanded, “Where is my wife?”
Panic gripped him in a vise and squeezed as he scanned the crowd again.
Blair came running up out of breath. Her face was flushed, and a trickle of sweat dripped down her brow.
She couldn’t have had something to do with what had just happened, could she? Where would she have even found a bow? But why had she disappeared just before the assault began?
She turned to him and looked relieved, as if she was going to fling herself into his arms, then froze, likely because of his expression. His anger and fear had gotten the best of him; he fisted his hands and was fairly certain he was scowling.
“Where were ye?” he bellowed at her. Those left in the market could see the angry beast he’d become. He took a step toward her.
She shrank away, fear filling her eyes. Stepping on one of the spilled peaches, she slipped and fell flat on her back.
Hell, what was he thinking?
She rose and looked at her hands. They were covered with dust, and blood oozed from her palms. She fought to control her breathing then looked behind her to see everyone watching. Her eyes rolled heavenward, and her body went limp.
Highland Salvation Page 9
